


sweet like kahlúa

by thetys



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinking, F/F, Flirting, man it's just lesbians, pietro sets wanda ""straight""
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:41:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26087356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetys/pseuds/thetys
Summary: Wanda is used to unimaginable beauty, but Natalia still finds a way to sweep her off her feet.
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 2
Kudos: 81





	sweet like kahlúa

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Atumun15](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atumun15/gifts).



> wrote this little drabble in a haze bc i freaked out over vessie's bday LMAO hope y'all enjoy it's the only marvel fic i will ever write
> 
> also don't say shit about the way i refer to tasha in this fic bc it doesn't makes sense to call someone you just met by their nickname, let them have some fries first

In Wanda’s defense, it’s not often she’s left speechless by someone else’s beauty. She’s had plenty of time to get used to it as a modeling photographer, and it rarely phases her anymore. You’ve seen one sharp jawline, you’ve seen them all. You’ve seen one set of long legs, you’ve seen them all. And so on and so forth.

But the bartender in front of her, with her short, fiery red hair, fitted vest, and dress shirt rolled up to expose her forearms, is doing a number on her. She can’t be blamed for the way her brain short circuits when she approaches the section of the bar Wanda is sitting at.

“Hey, what can I get you tonight?” Her voice is velvet, wrapping itself neatly around Wanda’s heart, and she struggles to keep her thoughts straight.

“Right, uh. A hurricane.” She bites the inside of her mouth and curses to herself. What is with her? She’s never had a problem with getting a hot girl’s number before, and now she’s stumbling through conversation like a child learning to walk. The bartender, for her part, winks at Wanda goodnaturedly.

“One hurricane, coming up. Do you already have a tab?”

“Under my name, Wanda Maximoff.”

“Alright Wanda, it’ll be just a moment.” She knows a hurricane barely takes any time to make. But at the very least, it allows her a few moments of guilty pleasure. The flex of the bartender’s forearms and biceps as she shakes the liquor, her sure hands as she arranges the glass. God, she’s lost it hasn’t she?

“And here you are.” The bartender sets a hurricane glass in front of her, garnished with a mint sprig and lemon slice. “I’ll be right down the line if you need anything else.”

“Thanks,” is all Wanda can come up with to say. She watches as the bartender—whose name she hasn’t yet managed to catch—walks away to make a drink for another patron and sips on her consolation forlornly. It’s just the right balance of sweet dark rum, passion fruit, and sour lemon, and Wanda feels herself sinking deeper into regret.

“I can tell you’re in a slump from across the room,” Pietro starts, sliding onto the seat next to her, “so what’s up?”

“There’s no sanctity for the art of gay yearning in this house.”

“There never was,” Pietro agrees solemnly, “and this isn’t our house. So a gay crisis?”

“The bartender is hot,” Wanda answers, albeit petulantly, “and I seemed to lose all control over my tongue. Now I don’t have her name or number.”

“Hm, that does seem like a problem.” Pietro taps his finger on his cheek with faux sympathy. “Have you considered talking to her again?”

“And seem desperate?”

“You do realize she’s working a bar, right? And that it’s part of her job to talk to people to find out what drinks they want? Right?” Wanda stares resolutely at her drink and takes another fortifying sip. “You can’t be serious.”

“Shut up, Pietro. There’s a guy staring over at the table against the wall. Go bother him and don’t come back tonight.” Her brother smirks and subtly tips his head forward to catch the guy she’s talking about.

“Well, looks like both of us will get a name and number tonight. I better not hear you whining about missed chances tomorrow.”

“And you better not whine about your ass hurting.” Pietro flips her off with a satisfied smirk and walks off, and Wanda returns to summoning the courage to get another round.

“Doing alright over here?” Well, looks like she didn’t have to do it herself. And a quick glance at her glass shows that it is, in fact, empty.

“Huh, didn’t even notice,” she says, mostly to herself, and she startles when the bartender snickers. Her eyes shoot up to catch the curve of her lips in a smile before it disappears.

“Then can I get you something else?”

“How about you get me your favorite?” It tumbles out of her before she can fully process how flirtatious it sounds, but she fights back the blush. If this is the hill she dies on, so be it.

The bartender quirks her eyebrow. “Feeling adventurous, huh?”

“I don’t think you’ll steer me wrong.”

“I’ll be right back, darling.” She drifts off in the direction of the blender, and when she pulls out the vodka, Wanda gets a pretty good idea what she’s planning.

“I didn’t peg you to have a sweet tooth, too,” she remarks as a mudslide is set down in front of her.

The bartender smiles. “There’s a lot you wouldn’t know. But a Romanova mudslide is something special.”

“Oh really? Then I have high expectations.” She looks down at the glass and picks it up delicately. Swirls of Kahlúa in the ice cream and Irish cream tempt her, and she isn’t disappointed by her first drink. A proper mudslide, she muses, that balances the booze and milkshake perfectly.

“Well?”

“Ms. Romanova, you’ve blown me away.” She leans slightly forward and offers a winning smile. “Any chance you could sweeten the deal and get me your first name?”

“Aren’t you forward about what you want?” There’s a hidden laugh in her voice, so Wanda takes it as an invitation to continue.

“I’m but an unfortunate casualty of your beauty.” She winks, and the smile the bartender was holding back comes out.

“Natalia.”

“Natalia Romanova.” It rolls pleasantly off her tongue. “I’d love to see you again. It isn’t every day someone captures my heart with a perfect mudslide.”

“What a flatterer. I’m sure that’s how you get all the girls.”

“Is it working?”

Natalia tilts her head playfully. “You might want to get your phone out. I’ll only be saying it once.”

“I need to work for it, I get it,” Wanda jokes back. She listens intently as Natalia recites her number. “Lovely.”

“And if you’re sticking around, I get off in another half hour. I know a place nearby with the best fries.”

“A woman after my own heart,” Wanda says, a touch more dramatic than she had to be. “How did you know that’s exactly what I’d need?”

“Takes one to know one.” She checks the other end of the bar and grimaces. “Sorry, I have to keep doing my job. Hope you’ll take up the offer, though.”

“No question about it. I’ll be right back here in a half hour,” Wanda promises, and her stomach swoops when Natalia gives her one last smile. She takes another taste of her mudslide and begins counting down the minutes until the clock hits 1 in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> don't find me. i am not a marvel writer.


End file.
